He took another report from the heap. This one was the data sheet of the Zurich Euthanasia Center, and he gave it a cursory scanning. During the past week, eleven substandard children and twenty-three substandard adults had been sent on to Happysleep. That was the grimmest form of population equalization. Walton initialed the report, earmarked it for files, and dumped it in the pneumochute. The annunciator chimed. "I'm busy," Walton said immediately. "There's a Mr. Prior to see you," the annunciator's calm voice said. "He insists it's an emergency." "Tell Mr. Prior I can't see anyone for at least three hours." Walton stared gloomily at the growing pile of paper on his desk. "Tell him he can have ten minutes with me at--oh, say, 1300." Walton heard an angry male voice muttering something in the outer office, and then the annunciator said, "He insists he must see you immediately in reference to a Happysleep commitment." "Commitments are irrevocable," Walton said heavily. The last thing in the world he wanted was to see a man whose child or parent had just been committed. "Tell Mr. Prior I can't see him at all." Walton found his fingers trembling; he clamped them tight to the edge of his desk to steady himself. It was all right sitting up here in this ugly building and initialing commitment papers, but actually to _see_ one of those people and try to convince him of the need-- The door burst open. A tall, dark-haired man in an open jacket came rushing through and paused dramatically just over the threshold. Immediately behind him came three unsmiling men in the gray silk-sheen uniforms of security. They carried drawn needlers. "Are you Administrator Walton?" the big man asked, in an astonishingly deep, rich voice. "I have to see you. I'm Lyle Prior." The three security men caught up and swarmed all over Prior. One of them turned apologetically to Walton. "We're terribly sorry about this, sir. He just broke away and ran. We can't understand how he got in here, but he did." "Ah--yes. So I noticed," Walton remarked drily. "See if he's planning to assassinate anybody, will you?" "Administrator Walton!" Prior protested. "I'm a man of peace! How can you accuse me of--" One of the security men hit him. Walton stiffened and resisted the urge to reprimand the man. He was only doing his job, after all. "Search him," Walton said. They gave Prior an efficient going-over. "He's clean, Mr. Walton. Should we take him to security, or downstairs to health?" "Neither. Leave him here with me." "Are you sure you--" "Get out of here," Walton snapped. As the three security men slinked away, he added, "And figure out some more efficient system for protecting me. Some day an assassin is going to sneak through here and get me. Not that I give a damn about myself, you understand; it's simply that I'm indispensable. There isn't another lunatic in the world who'd take this job. Now _get out_!"